Synthetic Romance
by Salome Weil
Summary: Hermione is just a ministry worker, trying to catalogue vampires and get back to life as she knows it.  Severus is just trying to get back to life, or avoid it altogether with Draco's help. But a chance encounter changes everything. SS/HG/DM
1. A Terrible Beginning

**I don't own any part of Harry Potter, Trueblood, etc and so forth and make no money off this fic. All rights to JK, WB, Scholastic and Charlaine Harris. (Love you Charlaine!)**

**PLEASE READ AN: Yes, I blatantly borrowed the major plot points from the Sookie Stackhouse series. If you don't know those books, they are loads of fun and you will love them. If you do know them, the only thing I borrowed was the idea behind her revealed vampires world. The timeline is totes off and it doesn't borrow any of her characters. This is not a proper crossover fic, in other words. Also, like the summary warns, eventually it will be Severus/Hermione/Draco. So, if any of the above items squicks you out, jump ship now, because nobody likes a whiner. Consider this your warning!**

**Inspired by and written for Chompers (chompthecrocodile)**

* * *

Severus' fangs snicked out and he ran his tongue along the edge of one thoughtfully as he peered out his window and into the night. It was raining again and he was less than happy about the weather, to say the least. Particularly because he really needed to get to the convenience store on the corner a block away and pick up some more bottles of the A negative. He had exactly one bottle left and he was feeling…peckish. Which wasn't a good thing when he was expecting company later one of the non-fanged variety. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled on his black pea coat and grabbed his umbrella from the stand in his entryway; before opening the door of his small-ish flat and stepping out into the dim lighting of the outer hallway. Then it was down the stairs to greet the damp and darkness and make his blood run.

* * *

Hermione Granger kept the bright smile pasted on her face even when the female vampire at the door gave her a once over that made her blood run cold (absolutely no pun intended). She held her clipboard and enchanted quill forward and waited politely while the vampire- no, woman, she reminded herself- filled out the questionnaire. They were thinking, feeling magical creatures after all, same as house elves- more intelligent than house elves, in fact. They deserved the same rights, the same freedoms (within moderation and morality) as those among her own beloved elvish cause. There were plenty of former witches and wizards who'd become vampires, for instance- some of whom had never fully given up their magic. And what of the muggles who were changed without their consent or knowledge?

No, there was no doubt her work in the last year and a half since the Great Revelation was very important. The ministry was still struggling to deal with the acknowledgement the muggle world was giving the creatures (because if the muggles accepted the vampires, why shouldn't the ministry, was their argument), while trying to keep their own existence a secret. That was the real problem the ministry had with the Revelation- that the vampires had taken it into their own heads to reveal themselves to muggles, without a care in the world for the consequences to the rest of humanity's hidden side. In fact, the ministry had very nearly gone to war with the vampires over the issue. It had only been her department's quick thinking, with the aid of Arthur Weasley's and Harry Potter's good words, that had kept them from having an all out cold war with the creatures.

Now they were at an uneasy truce, one that involved loads of paperwork and regulations, and lots of experimentation and data gathering. Which was what Hermione was up to, just then, as she took the clipboard back from the woman with a smile and hid her shiver as the woman smiled back, fangs fully out. She still wasn't quite used to the way that looked and she wasn't sure one ever really got used to something like that. Still, it was part of her job and it was something she'd actually campaigned to do. How could she expect people to take her position on rights for house elves seriously if she didn't prescribe to the same rights for _all _magical creatures? And, as it was, the work was quite fascinating. She'd met plenty of vampires, tasked as she was with hunting them down all over the British Isles; and though many stories had a similar start, each vampire's life was unique and filled with adventure.

She'd had to start with the oldest ones, as a matter of respect, and she was finally nearing the bottom of the list, getting to the ones turned in the last fifteen years- which made her work even more interesting. After all, it had only been a decade since the fall of Voldemort and she'd been right in the thick of things when some of these men and women were changed. Hell, some of them had been right in the thick of things and she fully intended, once she was done with this wretched- ahem, _fascinating_- assignment, that she was going to start work on an updated history of Great Britain's vampires.

But first, she thought as she made her way down the front steps of the town home, I am going to go home to Ron, where I will come in out of the rain and take a hot bath and let him rub my feet. She'd been traveling for days at a time, nonstop for a year, with rare weeks, or even just weekends, at their shared flat and she missed him dearly. He insisted he was alright with things, that he was plenty busy as an auror, but she knew he missed her too, so she was truly looking forward to wrapping things up in this district of the East End.

"Oy!"

She stopped, startled, and turned around. The woman was beckoning to her. Cautiously, Hermione walked back up the steps.

"I'm sorry- did I misinterpret anything? I am still fairly new at this, please accept my apologies. It's late, for me."

The woman looked contrite about something, but at the same time Hermione thought she detected a hint of slyness about her features. Perhaps it was the tilt of the head, or the slant of the eyes.

"No, not exactly," she replied. "It's just that…well, I understand- we all do, really, that if even one of us doesn't cooperate with the new regulations that it could end up reflecting poorly on all of us, affecting all our rights. Even end up causing another conflict."

"That's right," Hermione said warily. "Why? Do you have something to report? If you do, you should contact the appropriate department. I'm really more of a census taker than anything else-"

"Oh, but that's all it's about," the woman said, flashing a fanged smile again. "There's a bloke living nearby and I think he's one of us, but I don't recognize him at all. My nest mates and I wondered if he wasn't new, or an immigrant, or something of that nature. Either way, he keeps to himself. Really private."

"Do you know his name?" Hermione asked, quickly scribbling down the new information. "Then I can double check-"

"No, that's partly why we thought maybe you ought to be aware," the woman murmured. "We just want to do the right thing, after all."

"Of course," Hermione responded, smiling in return, though this would mean extra work tonight and a delayed arrival home. "I understand. So, he's in this area, at least? Can you point out where you've seen him most often?"

"At the corner store, same as us all. Buying blood. But he goes more regularly than the rest of us."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked without thinking. The woman flashed her fangs again and Hermione shifted some, reminded that as long as it was consenting between adults and didn't result in death, live blood donation was legal. "Right, my apologies for asking," she finished. "I'll be on my way. And thank you again for pointing him out- he certainly wasn't on my list for this area. You were the last, in fact."

"Glad to be of service," the woman fairly purred, and Hermione stepped back firmly.

"Thank you. Good night."

"A pleasure," the woman returned and then the door was shut. Hermione turned around and walked down the stairs again, then glanced up the street to where she could see, a block ahead, the lights of a convenience store. It was raining a bit harder again and Hermione shivered and pulled the collar of her coat up after putting her clipboard into her satchel. Then she checked her watch. Past eight already and it felt like later. Her heating spell was definitely wearing off and no amount of shield charms could keep the rain from misting against her skin. She put up her umbrella and started down the street, her sensible pumps making clacking noises against the sidewalk as she splashed her way through the growing puddles.

* * *

Severus was just inspecting the selection of synthetic bloods and was about to open the refrigerated unit's door when he heard something. Then he looked a little closer at the reflection in the glass of the store behind him and saw something.

A head of bushy brown hair and the voice of a know-it-all he was certain he'd never have to see, or hear ever again. Although he knew, somewhere in the recesses of his once human mind, it was inevitable that one day he would run into someone he had known once upon a time.

He'd just never imagined for a second it would be her. But he supposed all the reports he'd been told were true and he should have been prepared for it. Bloody, snot-nosed, insufferable little _witch_, who just had to have her fingers in every pie. Who just had to know or find out everything. He'd been well aware she was one of those who'd been a driving force at the ministry to help integrate the vampires, to work with them to preserve the secrecy of their world- _her_ world, now. Not his, ever again, not really. Though sometimes he wondered if he'd ever truly belonged to it even when he was alive.

Now, however, after all his plans, the careful motions of his benefactor and of himself, his cover was about to be broken. Desperate to avoid such a train wreck, he took a step over, behind a row of crisps, and continued to watch the reflection. He dared turn his head slightly and looked over at her directly, where she stood with her back to him as she spoke to the store clerk. Of course he heard every word she was saying. That silky, bossy tone grated on him, even though she had been one of his best students, and he felt suddenly transported back to every worthless Potions class he'd ever taught.

"I've been told there may be a man who comes here regularly to purchase blood from you," she was saying. "Is this true?"

"There's a nest of the creatures a block away, yeah," the clerk replied with a surly tone. Severus smiled thinly. His glamour would hold for now, it seemed, but eventually she would ask a question that tipped her off anyhow. Insufferable chit. He continued to eye the pair.

"This one isn't a member of the nest. You might not even realize he is a vampire," she went on. "Please, could you describe to me exactly who comes in to buy blood from you?"

Hell. There went his cover. He'd only glamoured the man to not recognize him for what he was, not to simply ignore his existence. But he supposed that was a natural mistake. He couldn't blame himself too much- he hadn't had the benefit of his maker guiding him during his early years, after all. He was, as a result, a terrible vampire, in his own opinion. In the opinion of others, in fact. But there was nothing he could do about that now. He listened again.

"Oh, aye," the man began, his brow furrowing. "Well, there's the group living nearby- a woman and two men, I suppose you call them…" He went on and described the trio in as much detail as he could recall, then went on to tell her about the visitors to the nest who'd been sent out to buy blood for them. And finally, when Severus could see Hermione growing annoyed at the man's reluctant loquaciousness, the man got around to describing himself. Severus decided now would be a good time to leave the store- perhaps come back at another time. Except he truly needed more blood, as he really was quite hungry.

And he could smell Hermione Granger, member of the ministry, the golden trio and Gryffindor war heroine from all the way behind the lamb and mint jelly crisps; and she was positively mouth watering, even if she was a little worn about the edges.

Besides, sure he could get around her- he moved faster than Potter after a snitch- but even if he left the shop she'd be monitoring it for the next several days, possible weeks. Until she got her man- er, vampire. He knew the way her mind worked and once she got an idea in her head she was tenacious. Not hard-headedly stubborn the way Potter was, just…dedicated. He frowned and as he debated once again what to do- disappear now or face discovery- she was pointed in his direction by a now helpful clerk. He spun around before she saw him and turned back to the refrigerated case, shoulders hunched, anger pulling his face tight.

This was it, he was caught, he would be hounded by the ministry the rest of his life and not have a peaceful moment to himself ever again. All he wanted to do was continue his potions work and try to make something of his miserable existence and instead-

"Excuse me," Hermione said and he was surprised to hear a note of weariness in her tone. As if she wanted this distasteful interview less than he did. "But may I ask you a few questions? You see, I was told there was a report of an unknown vampire living in this district and-"

She broke off as Snape turned to her, her jaw dropping, quill stopped in mid-scrawl across the clipboard balanced on one unsteady arm. He raised one disinterested, perfectly sculpted black brow at her while her wide eyes took in his familiar, yet strange features. Perfectly pale skin, same hooked nose, but that no longer seemed to dominate his face the way it used to. Perhaps because his shiny black locks were pulled back in a low ponytail now- no longer greasy, merely silken. A few shorter strands floated about his high forehead and his eyes- unchanged and still quite dark and hollow- stared right back at her.

He wasn't breathtakingly beautiful, by any means. Not like the king of the area whom she'd met three months ago. But perhaps because she recognized him, saw in him the brave, yet stringent man who'd once lorded over her for every year but one of her Hogwarts career; she found herself with no breath left to ask any questions. Or maybe it was because she'd seen him die with her own eyes. Or perhaps it was because he'd begun to glamour her.

Either way, she was utterly unable to move or speak.

The clerk interrupted them.

"That him?" the man called and Severus snapped his eyes up to him, an annoyed glare skittering across his hardened features. Hermione took the opportunity to blink and shake her head.

"I- yes?" she called back, before Severus could catch her eye again. She only darted quick looks at him and stared hard at her clipboard. Her heart was racing with her new discovery and she knew he must be able to hear it- the bloody creatures could hear _everything_. Hell, what did she do? What could she do?

The clerk seemed satisfied and Severus wondered if he should go ahead and run for it anyhow. But no, that would only raise more questions, possibly cause trouble for his benefactor. And that was the last thing he wanted for that poor man, not after all the trouble he'd already given him. He settled for glaring down at Hermione.

He really was a _terrible_ vampire.

"Come to make my life even more miserable, Miss Granger?" he demanded and she flushed. Her increased heart rate only magnified the smell of her and he was careful not to breathe.

"Professor Snape," she finally managed to stammer bravely. "I never- I saw you…oh my god."

"There is no god, Miss Granger," he replied coolly. "Otherwise I would truly be dead. Instead, I am as you see. And I'm no longer your professor."

"What should I call you then?" she questioned quickly, darting her eyes about them as she realized the incongruity of the situation, how it all might be misconstrued and go terribly awry. She'd thought she'd just be uncovering a new vamp, after all- not the long supposed dead potions professor and double agent. Damn it all.

"Snape will do," he responded and caught her frantic glances around. "Wondering where your partner is?" he asked and was surprised when she shook her head.

"He was sick at the last minute, but I was desperate to finish up tonight. Oh, god," she murmured again. "How did you- why are you-"

"This is not the place to talk," Severus replied stiffly. "Not," he added, "that I want to speak to you at all. We've gone to great lengths to maintain my privacy. My total privacy."

"I imagine so," she said. "But still…"

"If you'll permit me, Miss Granger, I was here to buy blood."

"Oh, of course-" She was so startled by it all that she mutely stepped aside and let him pick out his selection, then followed him quietly up to the register, scribbling madly on her clipboard the entire time. So, she was shocked, but not so done in that her brain wasn't still firing a mile a minute. Typical. He snorted at her intellectual flakiness and paid for his blood, giving the clerk a sneer and another glamour for good measure.

Hell, he really would have to talk to this chit about things now- unless he wanted to risk the wrong side of the aurors by glamouring her and destroying ministry paperwork. He berated himself inwardly. It was as if, since becoming a vampire, he'd gotten less mercenary and not more so. He truly was the worst vampire in the world. It made him wonder idly if it really was possible for vampires to be cursed with souls, and perhaps that's what his love for Lily Evans had done for him for all those years. Bloody hell. Or, maybe he was just hungry and so he wasn't thinking clearly. Either way, she'd have to come back to his flat with him-

It all happened so quickly, his thoughts interrupted by a gunshot and a shriek of surprise from beside him. The clerk hid behind the counter; but Hermione was still so shocked by her run in with her once-professor; and so absorbed in taking copious notes that she didn't have time to pull her wand before the would-be thief had fired at her; because she'd unwittingly ignored his demand that she drop her items and hit the ground. The bullet ripped through her side; and Snape thrust her out of the way before he launched himself at the robber, taking a bullet in the chest, himself; even as he tackled the other man to the ground, wrenching the gun from his hand and throwing it through the nearest wall. Then he viciously banged the man's head against the ground twice, knocking him out cold.

And all that before the clerk hit the alarm and the siren sounded. Severus lifted his head and fought back panic, realizing what the alarm meant. His eyes flew to Hermione's gasping, twisted figure, a pool of blood forming under her, then to the eyes of the clerk, who was just peeking over the top of the counter. Snape proceeded to make one of the best- or worst- decisions of his life. He was up from the thief in an instant and over to Hermione, whom he picked up effortlessly in one arm, curling his hand around her side to staunch the blood flow. She cried out in pain once and then appeared to pass out. He glared over the counter at the clerk, swiping a hand across the surface and sending the bottles there crashing to the floor and breaking, their synthetic blend mingling with Hermione's blood. Looking over, he saw the smoking remains of the security tape that the thief had destroyed with a stray bullet- one less worry there. Then his eyes took in the cricket bat in the clerk's hand and his eyes flicked back to his face, drawing him in and turning on his glamour without preamble.

"This thief came in and brought blood to the counter, presumably to purchase it. He was sent by the nest that lives nearby. That is when he pulled the gun. You hit him across his middle with the baseball bat and he stumbled back and hit his head on the floor. Your bat knocked the bottles to the floor. You never saw myself or this woman. We were never here. You understand?"

The clerk looked at him blankly and blandly repeated his words and only then did Severus feel some of his panic abate. In the next second, as the police came and opened the door, he was darting around the aisles to avoid them and then flying past them with Hermione in his arms, so quick they'd never know he'd been there. Not him and not the bleeding woman in his arms. The synthetic blood would have contaminated the sample left from her wound anyway.

He was safe…as long as she lived and he could convince her never to speak of their encounter. Looking down at her face as he skirted around buildings and finally into a gate and down the stairs into his basement flat, he saw she was pale as he was. That was no good- not when she was normally flushed or even tan. And Merlin, he could smell her blood…it was all over his own jacket, now.

He shoved into his flat and deposited her still form onto the small bar separating his kitchen and living space. It was the cleanest surface he could think of, and the closest. He tore her coat away from her without hesitation and her skirt and shirt followed. Her body didn't interest him in the slightest, except that it was losing a lot of blood through that wound and she was in no condition to heal herself. He lifted her wand and gave it an experimental flick. It didn't respond. Tossing it aside, he grabbed some dishtowels and packed them against the wound, pressing as hard as he dared, then shrugged from his bloodied coat. Her smell…it was all around him now.

He blinked against his own hunger and realized, as he watched her breathing grow more shallow, that his options- and hers- were running out. Especially if he wanted to avoid accidentally turning her. So, he brought the inside of his wrist to his teeth, broke the skin, and then shoved it against her open mouth. As some of his blood sluggishly trickled in against her tongue, he saw her throat move and she involuntarily swallowed the potent liquid. Her breathing and color improved almost immediately, though he knew she'd need real magic to get her out of the woods. Wrapping her shirt around her waist to hold the dish towels in place, he finally stumbled back from her and rested against his refrigerator a minute before opening it and searching for that last bottle.

Which was when he noticed his hands were covered in her blood.

He dared one lick of a reddened finger and closed his eyes against the pleasure, unable to help sucking the rest of his spindly digits clean. Then he quickly reached for the bottle and popped the cap off, downing it in one long swallow before he could fly back to her side and clean her wound for her.

He would not be that disgustingly depraved of a creature. Would. Not.

Resting his head against the closed door of the fridge once again, he gave himself another minute, then turned to his phone and dialed the only number he ever used.

A concerned voice met his ear and his eyes strayed to Hermione again, where she lay on his kitchen counter, barely living.

"There's been trouble," he said shortly. "You'd better come quickly, and bring blood, for the love of Merlin."

There was an answering squawk and then he hung up and forced himself to leave the kitchen in search of any potions that might help the insufferable woman. Damned Gryffindors. Even from the other side of the grave they caused him no end of trouble.

* * *

**AN: I've had this tidbit of a first chapter floating about for a while and since I've just gotten some bad news and am in general a reactionary, I decided to post it and a few other things and see what everyone thinks. At least it's out there now! Help me figure out which of these tidbits to pursue! :) **


	2. A Terrible Impasse

**I don't own any part of HP or Sookie, all rights to JK Rowling, Charlaine Harris, Scholastic, WB, etc. I make no money off this fic.**

**AN: Chapter two was bumping about my hard-drive as well, but that's it for now. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**"I was on my way anyhow when you phoned," a smooth tenor said and there was a clink of something as a bag was set down. "A negative?"

"Your memory astounds me." That was Snape's rustling, nasal baritone.

"Well, what's the trouble?" The tenor changed slightly, concern entering it. "Is that blood?"

"I'm still cleaning."

"What the hell happened, Severus?"

"See for yourself. And before you ask, of course I didn't. You know me better."

"I do, don't I…you old marshmallow. Well, well. This…isn't good. Can you glamour her?"

"What's the point?" Snape sounded almost resigned.

"What's the point? What's the point of any of this?" the tenor demanded. "Do you honestly want all our efforts to come to nothing now?"

"I thought perhaps we might simply try talking to her about it."

There was an edge to both men's voices, now, and Hermione struggled to open her eyes, to see what the problem was. That was when she felt hands prodding her side, pulling away sticky, sodden rags and poking at her. She whimpered and the tenor spoke again, this time to incant a spell.

"_Vulnera Sanentur_."

She felt the ache in her side ease and the voice repeated the spell. Her breath came easier now and despite feeling tired and very weak, she knew she would live. She hadn't been certain of that until this moment. In fact, she was astonished she was conscious at all. But perhaps that was the effect of whatever Snape had poured in her mouth. It had been thick and unpleasant to taste, at first. Of course, many healing potions were, so that was no surprise.

"Merlin," the tenor said softly. "How'd you keep her alive?"

There was silence and then the other man spoke again, his voice harsh.

"How stupid are you?"

The sound of a sudden scuffle filled the space and then the baritone spoke.

"I'm still your elder, no matter what you do for me. It was all I could do for her, you understand me? She would have died. And then truly, where would I be?"

"Alright," the other murmured. "Alright. I agree. I apologize." His tone was soothing and Hermione finally found the strength to open her eyes.

Her vision was blurry and her tongue felt thick and all she could do was see the dim outline of Snape- she assumed it was still him, anyway- and another man. A blonde, whose back was to her. Her heart sped up some. What was going on? What was happening?

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Snape turned his head and saw her watching him, confusion plain on her face. He frowned as her eyes opened wider, her vision cleared some, and he turned back to the other man.

"She's awake."

The blonde spun about after wrenching the front of his shirt free of Severus' hands and Hermione choked as she gasped, her breath dissolving into a coughing fit, the pain in her side sharp.

Draco Malfoy swore and held her head up, murmuring another gentle healing spell and then producing water from the tip of his wand into her mouth. She choked and gurgled a minute more, then managed to swallow some and Draco turned from her again.

"She needs to be moved," he said and a second later she felt herself being lifted smoothly and carried out into what appeared to be a sparse living area and deposited on the sofa. She could tell she was barely dressed, but she didn't feel any shame. She was too curious about the situation and too happy at simply being alive to care. She looked up to see Severus Snape carefully arranging a pillow behind her head and back, lifting a glass with some sort of liquid in it to her lips.

She swallowed, because there was nothing else for her to do, she was too weak to protest, and his black eyes bore into hers in an intimidating, yet comforting manner. Draco walked into view as well and her eyes flicked from his face to Snape's. They watched her silently until she finally felt she could speak.

"How?" was the only question worth asking just then and Snape gave her a long, level look before turning away. She sought out Draco's eyes instead and he- so cool and poised now- merely shrugged.

"It's his story," he said. "I've only ever been along for the ride."

"Stop telling lies," Severus practically snarled and Hermione's eyes flew to his face again.

"How?" she asked again and he brought his eyes to her face. His expression softened microscopically.

"Draco…" he began and the other man moved from Hermione's line of vision. She heard the clink of bottles again and a second later one flew through the air and Snape reached up a hand and caught it. His eyes never left hers. She felt herself flush again.

"You saved me," she murmured when it became clear he wasn't going to answer her question.

Severus didn't respond, just tore the cap from the bottle and took a long drink. In another minute the bottle was empty and another one came flying through the air again. Severus caught that one too, but held up a hand to signal it was enough. Draco came back out and settled on the other chair. Hermione could see that Snape's fangs were out from his hurried drink and she shivered, unable to help herself.

Finally, when she thought neither of the men would ever say another word, her former professor opened his mouth again.

"I did save you, though I'm sure I'll regret it," he told her.

"That line is old," she retorted softly and was rewarded with another scowl from him and a laugh from Draco.

"That doesn't make it any less-"

"She has your number, Sev," Draco broke in. "I told you-"

"So I care about humanity," Severus snapped back. "That doesn't make me a philanthropist, merely a terrible vampire. If I were any one of my hundreds of kindred she would be dead right now, drained, by me and you-" He turned on Draco, who regarded him with a mild expression on his face, stealing all the wind from his sails.

"Yes, you've said this all before, Severus," Draco replied. He looked at Hermione, who only had stunned eyes for the brooding, miserable vampire of a wizard.

"After his death in the Shack," Draco explained when it became clear Severus wasn't speaking again, "he was found and turned by some rogue vampire- he wasn't quite all the way dead, apparently. I have no idea who it was turned him, or why. But while clean up and accounting was going on in the Great Hall, my parents were the only ones who cared to ask about him. You lot had left him there and Potter told us about it. So, I went with my dad and we found that bloodsucker hovering over him…we killed him, but that was when we realized what he'd been doing. Neither of us felt right leaving him there- he'd be helpless for days, we knew- so we took his body, cleared it with the right people, and took him back to the Manor with us, shammed a funeral. Once it was clear that we were going to be spared, we knew we'd be able to help establish him-"

"For Merlin's sake, I'm in the room, boy," Severus growled and met Hermione's eyes again as Draco fell silent. But the blonde man didn't seem upset by any of it.

"So you've known about him for the last decade and not said anything? Especially once he could come out of hiding…what were you thinking?"

Hermione was feeling better by the minute, though she knew she was still too weak to leave, yet. And while she was physically stronger, she was rather emotionally done in. Snape had been alive those last painful minutes in the Shrieking Shack? They could have saved him from this fate?

Severus sneered at her as if he knew what she was thinking.

"My situation is not, nor has it ever been, your fault, witch. So stop playing the martyr. What would you recommend I do about my existence now, Miss Granger? Turn myself in? Make nice with a community that hated me when I was alive and would hate me even more now? Continued secrecy seemed the best option at the time of the Revelation and Draco has been my go-between ever since. He volunteered for the position."

Draco snorted and Hermione tried to sit up, but found she couldn't, much to her distress. She settled for getting pissy, instead. After all, she was the one who'd come away injured, had almost died; was still wet and miserable and cold, since apparently Snape didn't care about being warm ever again; and the clock was ticking ever on, meaning by the time she got home tonight- if she got home- Ron would likely already be asleep. Bloody hell.

"What do you mean, volunteered? And for your information, Professor, you were always an extremely unpleasant man," she managed to snap. "If I have any feelings of guilt over what happened to you then, trust me, they'll be gone in another minute. I'm not the one who killed you or put you in that position. You were a rude, unfriendly, arrogant, embittered and excessively…_oily _man. And you haven't changed. Much."

If she felt any remorse over her verbal attack, she didn't show it and Severus raised a brow and looked very much like he wanted to snarl at her. In fact, when his lips parted she could see his fangs were partly out again, but she met his cold glare inch for inch. Draco alternated between wanting to clap for her temerity and put himself between the pair. He settled for a cool grin and eyed Hermione after making quite sure Severus wasn't going to take a bite out of her, after all.

"So, Granger, tell me what happened tonight."

She turned her head and shivered as his grey eyes appraised her and he frowned, then stood up and quickly covered her with a blanket and muttered a heating spell over her.

"Sorry about that," he murmured as he sat back down. "I'd try to repair your clothes, but…anyway. What happened?"

Now that she was warmer she felt more human and a little more willing to talk.

"You know about my position in the ministry," she said and Draco nodded. "I'm the main liaison between them and the vampires. I was on my final round of East Enders when that nest living about a block away from the convenience store tipped me onto him," she said with a nod at Snape.

He scowled again- it was getting to be a permanent look for him.

"I assumed that's why you were there, asking about me. But I paid them back in kind," Severus said.

Draco gave him a sharp look. "Severus, what the hell did you do this time? And let me guess, there's a good reason they dislike you enough to tip off the ministry in the first place?"

"There is," Severus responded. Hermione shook her head, trying to stay awake- another side effect of the heating spell, of course. His eyes flicked over her and she shivered. "You're still not out of the woods," he said and stood up. Draco put out a hand.

"I'll go. What are you getting her?"

"Brandy. More potion. It's in the cupboard-"

"I know where everything is," Draco said calmly and walked from the small sitting room. Hermione's eyes watched him go and she looked back at Severus.

"What's the deal with you two?" she asked and her former professor shrugged, choosing to wait for Draco to return before he did any more explaining. She narrowed her eyes and let them roam over him now that she could focus and see properly. Taking mental notes, really, since the odds that her paperwork from earlier had survived weren't good. Not with a vampire and a Malfoy both trying to protect said vampire's secret.

As if he could tell she was using his silence to observe him, he distracted her by speaking again, though he directed his voice towards the doorway whence Draco had disappeared.

"That nest has been coercing- glamouring- unwitting humans into their lair for months. I'm sure if you looked up the number of unsolved murder cases in this area and compared it with reports of humans wandering into that town home you'd find a correlation. So I reported them one night. The police arrived, gave them quite a bit of trouble. They knew about me, knew I liked to keep to myself…and one of them was turned before the war, so they were vaguely aware of who I am, or was. So they thought they would cause some trouble for me in return."

"By tipping me off," Hermione filled in.

"Smartest witch of her age," Severus sneered at her and she rolled her eyes.

"You're the one who pointed out earlier that I'm no longer your student, Snape," she retorted. "And unless you plan on killing me I could make things very difficult for you. So why don't you try being at least civil."

"While you do have a point," Draco responded, wandering back into view, "let me make one as well: we already know there's a rather vicious nest of vamps living down the street. It would be incredibly easy to let Severus drain you and leave you on their doorstep, making it look like they'd done it. No one would be any wiser about his existence, because with Malfoy money backing him, I can have him safely out of the country in no time. So please, keep that in mind when you make empty threats, Granger."

Hermione gave him a startled, almost frightened look and he relented, sitting on the edge of the sofa next to her and holding a glass of brandy and something else to her lips. She drank reluctantly.

"Of course, I'm merely making empty threats as well," he admitted. "Sev really is terrible at being a vampire. Hates every minute of it. If it weren't for his potions work he'd have greeted the sun a long time ago."

"Ten years ago, to be precise," Severus chimed in.

"Don't be morbid," Draco chastened mildly. He looked back to Hermione. "Go on, you were telling me about tonight."

"Someone tried to rob the store," Severus interrupted. "He fired a gun several times, hit Miss Granger, and I barely managed to get us both out of there with our skin. She passed out while we were still at the store, so I did my best to keep her alive."

"Yes, by giving her some of your blood, you already told me that part, Sev," Draco replied.

"He what?" Hermione whispered, the blood leaving her face again.

"Bloody hell, Draco," Severus grumbled and looked away from the scene on the couch. Hermione reached up and grabbed Draco's arm. Draco looked slightly annoyed.

"What in hell do you expect me to say, Severus? She deserves to know. You would have told her yourself in a moment." He directed his gaze back to the witch in question. "He gave you a small amount of his blood to keep you alive before I got here and could heal you," he explained, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. Hermione gaped at him and considered passing out again, but it would've been a waste of time. She'd never passed out a day in her life from the shock of anything, even as horrible as this news was, and nothing would be served by her starting now.

"What does that mean?" she asked instead, trying to keep from panicking. Draco snorted and Severus looked as if he wanted to join him.

"You know perfectly well what it means," Severus said. "So spare us the melodramatics."

"Of course I know what it means," Hermione snapped. "I'm just…I'm trying to wrap my head around it, is all. This hasn't been a typical evening for me. Besides, it's different for every pair, isn't it?"

"If you're asking what the exact effects between us might be, I can't begin to tell you. I've never-" Severus stopped short and beside her, Draco stiffened. Hermione looked from one to the other.

"Oh," she mumbled and suddenly a number of things made a great deal of sense. Rather, one thing in particular made so much sense that nothing else mattered. "You've only ever had this happen once before. That's why you're not sure exactly what will happen."

Draco gently detached Hermione's hand from his arm and stood up. "Well, Severus, what do you think? Does she need some more potion?"

"It's likely she will before the night is out," Severus said dryly. He'd locked eyes with Hermione once more, but this time they both knew any attempt at a glamour would fail. She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, you seem to be under the impression that I'm staying."

"I'm sorry, you seem to be under the impression you're fit to go anywhere- and that you're dressed," Severus replied coolly and Hermione flushed, but didn't look away. Draco cleared his throat.

"This is all very touching, your first teacher-student spat since Hogwarts days, but there's no point in not speaking plainly."

"And what is plain, then," Hermione said softly, finally looking away from Snape and up at Draco, whose grey eyes were regarding her a little sadly, but with a mature authority she hadn't seen there before.

"What's plain is that- through entirely no fault of his or yours- you've the start of a bond with him. What's plain is that you think somehow you're going to go home tonight and report him like the good little ministry official you are and what's also very plain is that you think we'll _let_ you do either of those things. Except I think you also know that we really can't let you do that."

"Then please, tell me what you can _allow_ me to do."

"What I'll allow you to do, dear Hermione, is to recuperate on this couch all night long while you listen to what Severus and I have to say. And then, in the morning, when you're thinking a little more clearly and we have a tad more privacy, we'll discuss your next move. Until then, I suggest you get comfortable and pretend you're in the infirmary. Which shouldn't be too difficult considering you've got Snape in the room."

"Impossible," Hermione murmured. Severus gave a start and a look of cold fury began to descend on Draco's visage. Hermione smiled slightly. "He doesn't look a thing like Madame Pomfrey," she explained.

Draco hesitated, then stood back and laughed some before shaking his head and walking from the room again. Hermione turned and looked at Severus just in time to see the ghost of a smile vanish from his face. A moment later he followed Draco out of the room and Hermione listened to the sounds coming from the small kitchen for a few minutes before her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open any longer.


	3. A Terrible Thought

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the HP or Southern Vampires franchise, all rights to J.K. Rowling, Charlaine Harris and co. and I make no money off this fic. **

**AN: Whew, been a while. Expect updates to take some time, though, ok? Life is crazy the world over. Thanks to anyone reading!**

* * *

"Looks like she swallowed that one, at least," Draco said, running a hand over his hair and turning to face Severus.

"Meaning?"

Draco peered around the other man, looking for signs of alertness from Hermione. Satisfied they'd remain unheard, he lowered his voice anyway before speaking again.

"Meaning, she thinks the bond is complete this first go round. But she only had your blood. With enough time it should fade without any problems." When Snape didn't say anything, Draco glanced at him sharply. "Oh, Merlin, Severus-"

"Her blood was all over my hands. I was starving. I'm not proud of it."

"But not too proud to lick your fingers anyway, is that it? Oh, god-"

"Not you, too. Why you humans insist on calling on a being that isn't there and will never answer is beyond me."

"Stop being clever and start thinking. What are we going to do about her?"

"I was under the impression Miss Granger was to be included in this discussion."

"As if we can trust her. Absolutely not," Draco scoffed. "Now what do you think? A glamour?"

"While I probably could, I won't."

Draco watched Severus uncertainly, as if waiting for further explanation. When none came, he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

"You think I won't understand your reasons or something equally idiotic?"

"Not exactly," Snape replied coolly. His black eyes glittered and he busied himself with cleaning the counter upon which Hermione had lain. Wiping blood away had never been so difficult…or painful. He wasn't as hungry as he'd been, but it had been a long time since he'd indulged- and he'd never indulged in a woman's blood. It had an entirely different taste.

He shuddered in revulsion at his own thoughts and tossed the dirty rag into the sink with a vicious flick of his wrist. Draco snorted softly.

"You can't fool me, old man. And while I might understand your reasons for not wanting to glamour her, I think you're being excessively foolish."

"She only wants what's best."

"Since when did you think it was best to try and rejoin the wizarding world?"

"I didn't say- I don't mean that!" Severus said sharply, tossing his head angrily and at Draco's silent judgment he turned away again in a huff and went to lean in the doorway, watching their captive as she slept. Draco moved up behind him and eyed Hermione as well. He spoke again.

"If you're going to risk throwing away all our hard work I think I deserve some sort of explanation."

Severus shot him a wry look. "I thought you understood my reasons."

"I meant I'd try to understand, not that I already do. Well? Go on, old man. This is your shining moment to show me what a charitable person you've become, to tell me all about how you're ready to rejoin the living like some kind of prodigal son."

"Your kind words astound me."

"You ought to be used to them by now."

Severus fell silent and looked out at Hermione again. A minute passed and he finally took a breath he didn't need.

"She's incredibly strong willed, Draco. As you are well aware. Even if I glamoured her I highly doubt it would last. We both know I really am terrible at all that…"

"Vampire stuff?" Draco supplied, very unhelpfully. Snape lifted a brow and inclined his head.

"Vampire stuff," he agreed and Draco glanced at him, amusement playing across his features.

"I'd pay to hear you say that again. That's a technical term, right?"

"Oh, shut up."

There was a longer pause and Draco leaned back against the now clean counter, arms crossed over his chest. He watched Snape thoughtfully.

"You like her."

"Don't be absurd," the other man said immediately, but there wasn't any venom in his voice. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Or you like her blood."

"Which seems more likely?" Severus shot back, turning to face Draco. Draco, in turn, pretended to inspect his fingernails.

"No, it's alright. I see how it is. You haven't tried to jump me in ages, after all. And it's not like I'm supplying you with any other pleasure aside from the blood. So really, I understand. You want to keep on her good side. If she has one."

"Don't get sulky with me, boy. It's hardly attractive. And it doesn't work."

"I wasn't expecting it to," Draco replied smoothly. "And anyhow, I was sick of being your personal cattle. Now, if you absolutely won't glamour her and you won't even consider option b-"

"I will never be responsible for a death," Snape inserted.

"- then we'd better figure out how we're going to do this," Draco finished, ignoring the interruption. He crossed his arms again. "Which means we'll have to talk to her like she has a say in anything."

"Which means," Snape corrected him, "that we have to trust her."

"Wrong. It means _you_ probably have to trust her. I, on the other hand, have the money and the pull to not have to trust anybody I don't want to. Besides, one of us has to keep his head around a pretty face."

Severus went to his refrigerator, pulled out another bottle of blood and opened it. Draco watched this with concern that disappeared the moment Severus turned back around. He was well aware what the former wizard's devouring all that blood meant.

It meant that he'd given Hermione a great deal more blood than he'd let on. It also meant he'd begun lying to Draco. Of which neither item Draco appreciated. At all. That, or…he was craving Hermione's blood so badly after one taste that he was gorging himself so he wouldn't be able to drink anymore even if he'd wanted to. That explanation was somehow less appealing than the other two. Lying, he could deal with. A thirst for the blood of a war hero and ministry official? The likely outcomes of that would be far more difficult to cover up. Mildly annoyed, the blonde wizard turned and reached for his coat, shrugging it back on while Severus watched him from behind that damned fringe of silken hair. Draco masked his feelings despite their bond- thankful that Severus _was_ a terrible vampire- and smiled at him as reassuringly as possible.

"Just going out for something for myself, if I'm to stay here all night. You have to go to sleep eventually and by then Hermione will be up and demanding answers. I'll worry about working things out for you."

Snape didn't respond, just continued to watch him silently, and Draco knotted his scarf about his neck, grabbed an umbrella, and made for the doorway. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, Snape decided to speak again. His baritone rumbled softly into the small foyer and Draco stilled.

"If I lose my head around her it won't be because I think she's pretty. That seems to be your idea."

Draco pressed his lips together, closed his eyes briefly, and prayed for the strength not to march back into the kitchen and stake Snape like the greasy git he still was and always would be. Hermione had been right on that count, damn her.

Then he opened the door and slammed it shut after himself. He thought he could hear a deep, sniveling chuckle through the wood.

* * *

Hermione had a strange dream in the night. She dreamt that she'd been injured terribly, mortally, and that as she'd lain dying, an angel had come to her and granted her life. No. Not an angel. His teeth were far too sharp for that.

The thought was gone quickly and the image changed, as dreams often do, and shifted into her old professor. The one with the greasy black hair that moved like silk in her dream, and the eyes that glittered like obsidian. He frightened her. He always had, somewhat, but not because of what people thought he was, no. Because he'd always seen straight through her, seen the little girl struggling to fit in, clinging to her books first and second, desperately, to friends who didn't always treat her very well simply because she didn't have any other friends and was afraid of being alone…

He was sitting across from her and she was feeling funny. Warm and cold at the same time and his eyes, burning holes into her, weren't helping her racing heart to slow. In fact, as his face drew nearer to hers and the minutes crawled by she could feel every molecule of her body quivering in anticipation, drawn to the stranger who looked like a man she'd once known, once admired and feared. Once hated…once pitied.

In the dream, his gaze was thoughtful, but as she grew more agitated and nervous, as her breath came more quickly, grew more strained, his lips curled away from his teeth and she saw that he was the angel.

For some reason it didn't frighten her when she saw that and her heart slowed and the dream blurred, and she rested peacefully again.

* * *

The morning light was blinding as it snuck in through a slit in the old blinds and the thin curtains did nothing to block it. Hermione lifted a hand over her eyes, knowing already by the angle of the sun, that she was late for work. She could hear birds chirping, presumably hopping along a windowsill nearby. Perhaps from the traitorously sunny window directly down from her. She turned her head and realized she was definitely not in her own bed, but somehow that wasn't much of a surprise, either. Sun up, late for work, not in her own flat…her dreams rushed back in bits and pieces and when someone plunked a cup of what smelled like heaven, but what most people called espresso, to one side of her head, she mumbled her thanks.

"You're surprisingly calm," the tenor answered her and she tensed a bit, but relaxed as her hand searched for and found the coffee.

"Draco," she acknowledged, one hand still covering her eyes. The feel of the warm cup in her hands was comforting. "What else can I be?"

"Ah, I forgot how sensible you are," he replied. "Well, that will make things easier."

"Might," she corrected him, finally daring to remove her hand and taking in this strange new world. The flat of her dead, former professor. Umm…undead, she amended mentally. Draco was looking at her in annoyance. She hazarded a rough smile before sipping the coffee very gingerly.

"Might," he repeated flatly. "As in you think you have a hand left to bargain, here?"

"War hero," she mumbled around the mouth of the cup. Draco scowled, then his face cleared and he laughed.

"Nice, Granger," he said. "I should've guessed you'd play that one up. Except here's the thing- even war heroes can go missing."

That much was true. Hadn't one or two of her classmates run off, never to be heard from again, shortly after the last (and final, she hoped) war was over? She lowered the cup and struggled to sit up. Her side ached, felt like it was suddenly on fire, and she doubled over her knees. The cool mask from before was immediately gone and Draco was beside her in a second, pushing potion to her lips, easing her back down to the couch.

"Merlin, Granger. You had a gaping hole in your side last night. You honestly thought it had healed already? You may be a number of things, but superhuman isn't on that list. No, drink up. All of it- there you go."

"What is on the list?" she asked weakly as he lowered her down again and pressed the coffee back into her hands. She took a large swallow, grateful for its scalding heat. It reminded her just how human she still was. It would've been far too easy for her to have joined Snape's ranks last night and so the reminder of humanity was a small blessing.

Draco smirked momentarily. "Bossy-boots, over-achiever, control freak…"

_Attractive_.

Draco was suddenly silent and Hermione glanced at him, amused.

"That's all? Not a slur in sight, then. That's good. I'm glad we've gotten down to normal insults, finally."

He lifted his grey eyes to hers and she felt her breath hitch as she saw what had to be blatant desire there. Confused and suddenly as frightened as she had been last night, she began to struggle up from the couch again, but Draco was at her side and pressing her back down.

"Don't try to move," he ordered her, his voice brisk once more, all amusement gone…along with the strange emotion she'd seen. His hands lingered at her shoulders only slightly and she tried to convince herself she was merely seeing things from loss of blood.

"I have to move sooner or later," she said reasonably. "I can't stay here. I'll be missed."

"Will you?" he murmured, more to himself. He stood away from her, staring down at her for a moment before taking the seat across from her again. "Nonsense," he said aloud. "You finished your rounds yesterday. All that's left is making sure the ministry receives your paperwork- which I've taken the liberty of cleaning up and reorganizing. Not a drop of blood in sight. You just have to sign it and I can send it off straightaway."

"Not a hint of Snape in sight, either, I'm sure," she retorted and Draco shrugged.

"He saved your life. I saved your life. You might consider actually saving his, now. Since, you know, you just left him to die before."

Hermione grit her teeth, unable to think of a clever or even logical response to that. The truth was, Draco was right. If they had allowed just a second more, had stayed to see to him more fully- she didn't know about Harry, but she'd had plenty of first aid training from her parents. Good, sensible, Muggle first aid that could potentially save a life when someone was teetering on the edge.

"I'll still be missed," she said, unable to argue the other point.

"Don't be ridiculous. Missed by whom? Weasley? Please, Granger, don't make me laugh."

"Ron and I are practically engaged," Hermione began, outraged, and Draco laughed. He _laughed_, the bastard. She supposed he didn't think it was possible for anyone to find her attractive, well he was just plain wrong. The thin, sallow, pointy ferret!

_Draco_.

Draco's laughter died away and he looked rather irritated. "Don't you know that...oh, sod it! Fine," he practically snarled. "I suppose if he were at your flat right now he might miss you but everyone knows you have some vacation time coming to you after the schedule you've been pulling the last several months. Besides, a vacation means you'll have more time to get started on organizing your data and editing that history you've been meaning to write."

"What have you been doing, going through my diary? Stalking me? Hired a PI?"

"I'm the head of a rather large wizarding corporation and the guardian of an equally sizable secret, Granger. I know a number of interesting things concerning just about anyone who could potentially throw a wrench in my plans."

"Including blackmail material, I assume."

Draco inspected the cushion of his chair. Hermione relaxed back on the couch, frowning. When she finally spoke it wasn't to refute anything he'd said, or any of the suggestions he'd made.

"You don't have anything on me other than knowing my every move," she said and he shrugged again, but something kept him from saying a word. She didn't like it, because she could tell there was something he wasn't saying, some secret he knew about someone she knew, or was close to. Something that could hurt her, could influence her somehow. Or at least, he thought he knew something. She made a decision.

"I won't stay here," she said. Draco glanced up at her and she saw it again, that flash of raw desire. She looked away and again, he said nothing. "I won't say anything, but I won't- I can't- stay here."

There was a brief silence and then she heard the sound of shifting furniture as Draco stood up.

"I'll have you moved," he said softly. He ruined the effect of actually caring a moment later, however. "Not immediately. It's not safe. But I imagine it can be safely managed later today, if you can bear to convalesce here just a while longer."

"I suppose I have to," she replied and Draco nodded, but didn't look at her again. He stood and moved from view, into the kitchen.

"I have to leave, make some arrangements," he began and Hermione, for all her witchy ways, felt some panic from the night before linger in her throat.

"You're not leaving," she started to say, but stopped herself. She could feel Draco staring at her from the kitchen doorway.

"I won't be long," he said in that soft tone of voice…the one she almost liked.

"Please," she whispered, hardly knowing why, since she detested him and could probably spell circles around him and Snape combined. Draco moved back into view and looked at her keenly.

"Granger?"

She was still for a moment and then looked up at him. "Oh, go on," she said, suddenly furious with herself. "I'm a grown woman."

"Who nearly died last night and has had a nasty shock."

And whose fiancé hasn't even put up a fuss about her not coming home from work last night, she knew he was thinking. But that wasn't fair to Ron. Not when she'd spent an odd night out so often in the last year that to have her at home when she'd said was now downright unusual.

Draco bent over to pick up her coffee cup and straightened again. He continued to watch her a moment more.

"I can work from here," he finally said. Hermione, ashamed and angry, turned away and stared at the back of the sofa. She heard Draco walk away again and managed to slow her racing heart. Then she prayed for more sleep and for a way out of the mess in which she'd found herself.


	4. A Terrible Decision

**Disclaimer: I own no part of HP, all rights to JK and co, no profit is made here.**

**AN: Oo, finally, another chapter! Sooo...the end is not exactly what I was expecting, but I hope it sends you all into the appropriate tizzy. :D**

* * *

Severus awoke early, at dusk. The first thing he noticed was that Hermione was no longer in his flat. He couldn't detect that exotic floral note on the air, or the quick, nervous beating of her heart. For a wild second, he thought he might be disappointed she wasn't still there. Then the second thing he'd noticed kicked in and he was too hungry to care.

Rising from his sleeping place, he stumbled out to the kitchen, intent on slaking his thirst.

"I'm famished," he mumbled in surprise as he popped open a bottle and let the blood slide heavy across his lips.

"Is it any wonder?" said Draco from behind him and Severus turned and shrugged.

"You're still here," he said. Draco snorted.

"Of course I'm still here. I had to make sure you'd be alright after our adventure last night."

"My adventure."

"Oh, no. Ours. Especially considering as how she's at my flat right now."

At that, Severus turned and raised his brows. "Are you sure you should be telling me that, since it's obvious you don't trust me when it comes to her?"

"Please. I revoked your invitation months ago."

"In my time of need."

"In your time of weeping blood on my good carpet every night for two weeks like a giant baby," Draco snapped. His brow cleared as Severus smirked and turned back to his bottle. He went on smoothly. "So, she's taken care of. Are you?"

"Whatever do you mean, my dear boy?"

Draco sighed. "You just said you're famished."

"I don't want your blood," Severus replied in a flat tone and Draco shrugged.

"I wasn't offering. I restocked your refrigerator today. They were out of the good stuff. Seems there was a panic today because of the attack on the corner store last night. Someone may have spread rumors that it was protestors intent on destroying the synthetic blood in a series of organized attacks."

"You mean you've linked that robbery to vampires? Are you out of your –"

"Mind? No, as a matter of fact. I'm brilliant. They would've linked it to vampires anyway because of the broken bottles near the counter. I just provided the possibility that rather than it being a vampire buying blood who was attacked, it was a vampire-protestor trying to make a statement. But don't thank me yet," Draco added snidely. Severus rolled his eyes.

"I won't."

"Oh, and thanks so much for butting in earlier."

"There's no need to lord it over the poor thing."

"So she's a 'poor thing' now?"

Severus looked away, sullen and took another long pull on his bottle. "You know what I mean," he mumbled around it. Draco crossed his arms.

"No, I don't, actually. For someone who insists I'm the one who thinks she's pretty…"

"You do. That was the truth, at least."

Draco threw up his hands. "Fine, fine. So poor, talented, lauded Hermione Granger has to be protected from the knowledge that her childhood sweetheart is a cheating bastard. I'm sure she'll thank us for that, Severus."

Severus set his bottle down on the kitchen counter and stared at the cupboards, brooding. He finally shook his head and blinked.

"You're right," he said quietly.

"What's that?" Draco replied, cupping an ear. "I don't think I heard you properly."

"You did. Don't antagonize me, boy."

"Stop making it so easy and I won't. Now, what the hell am I supposed to be right about?"

"Everything!" Severus shouted, whirling about, fangs out, chest heaving with breaths he didn't need to take.

Draco went very still, then backed away a few inches – his only concession that he ever found Severus frightening.

"Alright," he said, his voice soft. "Everything, then. Which everything?"

Severus ran his hands up into hair that hadn't felt like his own for a very long time. It was too silken, too straight and perfectly smooth, not a greasy knot to be found. He suddenly remembered the way Hermione had looked at him, such shock and…appreciation. The desire he'd felt earlier, through Draco, hit his gut hard and he rested back against the counter, feeling for the bottle. It was empty and he took one look at it before throwing it across the kitchen to smash into pieces at the bottom of the sink. Draco didn't blink, but he did look a bit pale.

"That everything?" he murmured. "Really?"

"Don't make me say it," Severus panted, digging in the refrigerator for another bottle.

"You like her that much?"

"Like doesn't have much to do with it," Severus replied. Draco eyed him speculatively.

"It will to her."

"Unless I become a better vampire," Severus said and Draco nearly laughed. Nearly, but for the tense set of his former mentor's shoulders. Not to mention the fangs were still out.

"You can't do that to her."

"How do you know?"

"For one, you wouldn't do it last night, when it counted. For two, you never would do it to me."

Severus' shoulders sagged and he leaned his forehead against the fridge before popping open another bottle and raising it to his lips. He took a long drink, then another, before he turned back around, leaning against the appliance. He tilted his chin up.

"You're not my type, it seems," he said and Draco did laugh at that.

"And she is. Great. This is just…brilliant. Can't pick someone normal, can you? Have to go for the war hero who hates us both."

"You're her type," Severus said suddenly. "Get rid of Weasley and half the work is done."

"You want me to lure her in? Dear god." Draco stopped short and stared at Severus, his eyes widening. "Merlin. You're serious. You _are_ getting better at this. When the hell did that happen?"

"At what?" Severus gave him a sidelong glance and finished off his second bottle. Draco shook his head, smiling slightly in appreciation of the vampire standing before him.

"Being a vampire," he explained. Severus tilted his head again.

"Since I remembered what it felt like to live," he said honestly. Then he opened the refrigerator and reached for another bottle.

* * *

Hermione woke at dusk as well, disoriented and sick to her stomach. Had she picked up the flu from someplace? And why was it so dark? She didn't have curtains in her flat…oh. Oh, no. So, it was all true, every last bit, and she was in some strange flat in a bad part of town and –

"Stop panicking. You're in my flat and while it's true that no one knows you're here, you're relatively safe from vampires and I have no designs on you otherwise." The tall, blonde figure that inevitably accompanied that smooth tenor drew back a set of curtains to reveal a glittering view of the city. Draco turned towards her as she sat up, rubbing her face. "Better?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No," she managed. "Sick."

Draco's expression changed instantly as he saw her wrap her arms around her middle and he practically dove for her, screeching something about the carpet as he bundled her up in his arms, blankets and all, and made for the en-suite. A minute later, he was bending over her, one hand propped on one knee while the other was occupied with holding back her hair. Hermione Granger, in his flat and puking her guts out. Would wonders never cease.

"Better now?" he hazarded and Hermione managed a small nod as she reached for the toilet roll and tore some off to wipe at her chin. Then she flushed the mess away with as much dignity as she could muster and gingerly, with Draco's continued help, got to her feet.

"Could be the healing process," Draco guessed, still holding her hair up as she rinsed her mouth and wiped her face clean. She sputtered some through the water and caught his eye in the mirror.

"Could be the vampire blood," she retorted softly and Draco glanced away.

"Are you finished?" he asked and she nodded. Dropping her hair, he led her from the bathroom and deposited her back on the bed. "Actually, you probably ought to have a bath," he said thoughtfully as he surveyed her huddled form, taking in the hunch of her shoulders and her greyish pallor. He frowned. "And it's more likely to be the sudden bond than the blood itself. Though I'm well aware it's hardly a popular taste, you ingested it hours ago. If it was going to make you sick you would've been ill this morning at the latest."

"Then wouldn't I have gotten sick from the bond then, too?"

"No," he said. "You were still in his flat this morning. I only removed you a few hours ago."

"So…you mean my illness might be caused by…"

"Being apart from him? It's possible, but again, not likely. No, I'm sure it's just the healing. You probably caught the flu, keeping the hours you have without proper rest or nutrition – or warmth, for that matter."

"My warming spells are the best in my department!"

"Yes, but by their nature warming spells are two thirds illusion, Granger. Or didn't they cover that in your first aid training? What are they teaching in the ministry-run courses these days?" He tsk-tsked her and Hermione frowned for all she was worth.

"Oh, please. I suppose you think your private sector training is heads and shoulders above us government peons."

"Can't argue with you there, Granger."

She sighed and tugged the wrist he'd been holding to check her pulse from his hands. "Take me home, Draco."

"Can't," he replied shortly, reaching for her wrist again. She smacked his hand away.

"Why not?"

"One, you're sick, two, I already started the rumor mill that you've gone to Bath for long weekend, and three, I really just…can't."

"What is that supposed to mean? Are you under bloody orders or something? Take me home this instant – oh. Oh, no." She covered her mouth with one shaking hand and Draco quickly reached for her wrist yet again, holding it captive as he watched his watch closely…though he was watching her face more closely. He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll let you go eventually, Hermione. Don't worry about that. The situation is far from permanent. It's just that it's better if you're here right now, until you feel better."

"This is kidnapping," she said.

"It is," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"You aren't," she said, wishing she had the energy to sneer.

"I am, actually, but I suppose you won't believe another word I say. Well, as long as you take your potions you should be all better by the morning. You can go then."

"But if he has you under orders –" she began and Draco shook his head.

"These are the orders," he said. "No worries, Granger. He and I both just want you all better and out of our hair. Alright?"

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded and Draco smiled at her in relief, then focused on checking her pulse properly. Hermione watched his face as closely as he'd watched her a moment before and felt strangely as though time stood still for that minute. As the seconds passed by unbearably slow, she could feel his own pulse against her sensitive skin, his blood throbbing through his fingertips strongly, the heat of his hand as he held her wrist surely and gently. She swallowed thickly and her eyes flicked from his face to his hand and back again. Her lips parted, she leaned forward…and he glanced up from his enchanted wristwatch to meet her eyes. She snatched her arm away again as if he'd burned her and scooted away from him. There was a brief silence, where his torso and legs didn't leave her peripheral vision, and she finally looked up at him again. Draco looked right back at her, not speaking, but not expecting any answers as to that awkward silence, either. He finally turned away.

"I'll draw you a bath," he said over his shoulder and Hermione watched him until he disappeared back into the bathroom. The minute he was out of sight, she felt all her energy leave her and she flopped back down on the bed, causing the healing wound to pull uncomfortably. She hissed from the slight pain and gingerly pressed a hand to her side. Well, at least she wasn't dying any longer, or in danger of dying – and as long as Snape and Malfoy were true to their words, any bond she had with the vampire would fade, given enough time. All she had to do was make it through the next several hours and then she'd finally be free to return to her flat. And if Ron had heard the rumors about her taking a short holiday already, well, then she could just explain her sudden arrival away as secret ministry business. Half of her work involving the vampires had already been highly classified, so she knew Ron would believe her. Of course, she'd feel bad about lying to him, but it was in everyone's best interests, really…at least, until she figured out how the best way to deal with the news about Snape.

She conjured his image in her mind and found she was hardpressed to remember him as he had been – her greasy git of a professor – as opposed to his new incarnation. That silky hair, the distinguished profile, the pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the dim rooms of his flat. The wound at her side ached again, cutting across the picture in her mind and she winced and rubbed her hand over it slowly…sensually. Her breath caught in her throat as his image took shape in her mind once more.

_Miss Granger_… That gravelly voice she remembered so well from all those years of lessons and reprimands and examinations rang in her memories and she closed her eyes at the sound, her hand still caressing her side. _Granger_, the voice murmured in her ears again.

"Granger? Hermione, are you alright? Not feeling ill again, are you?"

Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head to find Draco watching her, his eyes wide and nervous, his hands balled into fists at his sides. She didn't say a word, just stared right back at him, waiting for him to say something, to censure her somehow, as if he could tell just by looking at her what she was thinking. As if he could read her mind. He seemed to relax some, his hands opening, his eyes softening, and then he approached the bed slowly and knelt beside it. He reached for her hand, the one still pressed to her wounded side, and gently pulled it away and held it.

His hands were warm, she noticed. They were warm and they were bigger than hers, his fingers long and slender. She lifted her eyes to his again, but found herself suddenly unable to express anything, not even the fear she was feeling at what was happening to her.

"It's ok," he murmured, no longer looking at her, instead watching her hand intently as he laced his fingers between hers. "I know what it's like. What he's like. He's strong, stronger than he thinks he is, isn't he? There's no way a bond should be that…intense after only one exchange, but with him…it is." He exhaled slowly and met her eyes again. He looked tired, and as old as they both were. She was surprised.

"He frightens you," she finally managed to say and Draco took a deep breath. In a touching gesture, he pressed her fingers to his lips – it wasn't romantic at all, it was more the motion of a child seeking comfort. Hermione had a great deal of experience with that. She was best friends with Harry Potter, after all.

"It would be strange if he didn't," Draco replied. "But he doesn't…make demands. And I owe him my life."

"Hasn't that debt been cancelled?" Hermione hazarded and Draco shook his head.

"I made a mistake, early on and he saved me by giving me his blood. Not once, but twice. I haven't been able to write him off since. Not that I would've, either way. Besides, don't you think he deserves to be repaid? Knowing everything he went through?"

"But that was for Harry," Hermione began and Draco shook his head, squeezed her hand a little harder than necessary.

"And you think if we told Potter about this he'd assume the debt, the responsibility?"

Hermione frowned and Draco smiled sadly.

"Ok, so maybe he would. But that wouldn't change my situation, would it?" She frowned at him and he sighed. "Granger…Hermione. Listen, it's ok. I mean that. I'm just sorry you've had this thrust upon you. Look, get up, take a bath, forget about it for tonight. Try and relax and get some rest, alright? I'm going to leave you in here, but I'll just be out in the front room, going over some paperwork if you need me."

He started to stand and Hermione tightened her fingers in his without even realizing she'd done it. He looked at her in mild consternation, clearly of the opinion that he'd done his bit to comfort her, so now he could ignore her like he preferred. Flushing, she loosened her grip and started to tug her hand free, but a second later the annoyance had left his face and he was suddenly leaning over, scooping her in his arms and standing up with her.

"Draco!" she gasped, but he ignored the weak protest and walked her into the bathroom. He set her down on the countertop and his hands went to the buttons of her shirt. Only then did it occur to her that she was wearing men's clothing. She flushed a little more deeply and managed to shove his hands away. The annoyance returned.

"I'm not interested in ravishing you, Hermione."

"I never said you were. It's not right regardless of your intentions. I can undo my own damn buttons. And yes, I'm aware they aren't actually my buttons. You know these will all have to be transfigured before I go home tomorrow?"

Draco put his hands to the countertop on either side of her and leaned over to look her in the eyes. She pulled away from him and ended with her back to the mirror, slouched over, but he was still too close for her tastes.

"Draco…what are you doing?" she breathed, her face a bright pink, the shirt bunched up about her hips with all the commotion, the top buttons undone and revealing how far down her flush extended.

She was positively alluring.

"Draco…" she tried again and his eyes moved from her lips to her eyes and back again, all thought of conversation, of reason, now gone.

"I don't know, Hermione. Probably something very foolish," he responded, his voice low. Then he leaned the rest of the way in and kissed her.

* * *

**AN: Woooohooooo! My muse has been good to me today. ;)**


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